One Word
by JaxonGrae
Summary: The doctor is many things, Donna learns. He is a maelstrom of fire and ice and rage all neatly rolled into one molten package. He is fathomless and hollow. A walking dead with nothing left to believe in...empty, a husk. But, she knows, for a certainty knows, that all it will take is one word, one name to give him back his soul...


**DISCLAIMER: Don't own Dr. Who.**

One Word

Donna remembered it vividly now. Of course, back then, she'd been too fired up to care. Some bloody wanker had kidnapped her on her wedding day, and from walking up the middle of the isle in the church no less. She often snorted with humor recalling their very first introduction to each other in the console room of his TARDIS.

Most of the encounter had been, in a word..._educational,_ and Donna had quickly discovered just how utterly complex the daft spaceman in the magic blue box really was. She had seen it all that first trip. The madman, the hero, the warrior, the dark, unforgiving lord, and the lonely god. But of all sides she saw to him that day, the one she remembered the most, the one she'd clung to in spite of everything else she knew he could be, she latched on to the Doctor, _the man._

It had been a shirt. A simple shirt that, at the time, she'd given no consideration to whatsoever other then it obviously belonged to another victim of this crazed lunatic. But looking back, she can see it so plainly now, because the devastation in his eyes had been nearly tangible, like that was the only thing he had left to feel. There was nothing else to believe in any more. It was as if someone had reached in and ripped his entire soul away from him, leaving him cold and lifeless, the walking dead.

And as their first adventure together progressed, she swiftly began to understand what that meant _exactly_. He was a maelstrom of fire and ice and rage all neatly rolled in one molten package, fiercely destructive in nature and one that left everything in cinders and smoldering ruins in it's wake. And though Donna didn't like to think like this, she was certain it was only because of her presence that he had kept from tipping over the edge of reason completely, and careening into the dark chasm of death that the icy realms of Thames River was certain to have brought him.

He had been better the next time she'd seen him, not as broken. Well, at least not outwardly. By that point, he'd managed to cover up the wound with a badly stitched suture that still bled sometimes. Then there were other times when she still had to step in and pull him back from himself. The Shirt, as she had come to refer to it as, was, quite frequently, his only tether to some semblance of sanity, and there were times, not often, but times, where she would catching it close to him like it was the most precious thing in existence.

Donna had danced around the topic now and then when she felt it was safe enough because, sometimes, he didn't mind talking about it, if only to reminisce all the good times. It had only been once that he'd actually told her the name, _only_ once that he had dared whisper it aloud before fleeing back into his blue box, slamming the door behind him to disappear into the solitude of time and space. But that _once _ had been enough to tell her all she needed to know about what it meant to him_. _To understand that that one word, that one name, was _everything. _

So, it was of no surprise watching him now, as he frantically danced around the console, pushing buttons, flipping levers, and twisting knobs, that his eyes radiated with a light that she'd never seen before. A golden light that touched every part of his face, wrapping his whole being in a warm essence that burst with kinetic energy, a light that burned ever brighter as he raced down the metal ramp and out the TARDIS door.

Because, through it all, in spite of the planets disappearing, the storm that was to come, the possibility of the universes shattering around them, for all that was unknown and undetermined, there was one thing that Donna _was _certain of without a shred of doubt in her mind. For the first time since she'd know him, the Doctor was happy, _truly_ happy, and the moment she stepped foot out of the blue box, she didn't need any further proof to know the obvious. Because there she was, standing before him like a beacon combating the night, the one responsible for the glow surrounding him. His illumination through the shadows. His sunshine on a cloudy day. The air he lived to breathe and practically withered without. His everything. His...

_Rose..._

**Had a lot of fun with this and I'm quickly learning that I enjoy writing things from Donna's point of view. Fantastic woman she is! _Bloody_ fantastic. This sort of came out of nowhere, with no real direction. It just sort of happened but, hey, I love it when that happens. Anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed it. _Cheers!_**


End file.
